One of my mother’s favorite quotes has always been “I wish for you two things, to give you roots, to give you wings.” I’ve been down in FL for 5 days now, trying to help move my grandparents back to RI after 20 years retired in FL. It’s been stressful, it’s been tough. Errands, and cleaning, and packing have been in abundance. I’ve taken a week off of work to make thi
s happen; but the other day I was given the best gift my grandfather, my Papa, could ever give me: he gave me wings.
I’ve written extensively in this space, about Papa. I consider myself lucky to still have 3 of my 4 grandparents around. But a few years ago, we brought Papa to the WWII memorial (a post you can read about here) and it was a moment that changed my life. It was a reminder of the history Papa has live through, and the sights he has seen.
As we all sat around trying to clear out their belongings for a move to the place they’ve long called home, Papa called me into his bedroom and presented me with the one thing I wanted as his legacy: the wings he earned as a tail gunner in WWII.
I almost broke down when he presented them to me. Papa has always meant the world to me, and here he was giving me one of his most prized posessions. Later on, you’ll get more stories from this move: about Papa telling me semi-true family histories at a Red Sox spring training game, Grandma talking about her “German crystal” she spent years trying to obtain as a clerk at Apex, and Papa’s work history through the depression (the real one, he says, not the one we’re going through now). But for the moment, I guess I just wanted you to know how much this memento of family history meant to me, and how one day I hope to be able to show it to my children; to tell them what an amazing man their great grandfather was. And how he’s the reason we’re all here today.
Hi. My name is Kim Rossi and I don't have a personal brand.
Ladies and Gentlemen (or more accurately, lady and gentleman: I’ve ignored this blog for so long I am pretty sure that I only have two readers left) let me introduce myself: my name is Kim Rossi. Before now, many of you knew me as Finy – a nickname that evolved long ago on a Red Sox message board called the Royal Rooters.
But as my career has transitioned from print publishing, to nonprofit communications, and for the last two years, to online communications for a nonprofit, it has become increasingly clear that it was time to come out of the closet. Time to step into the open and admit: hey, see, I don’t just write corporate communications! I do other things too! It was time to claim my own little space on the internet and connect everything I do – from this blog to facebook, to twitter, to flickr – in one place.
And so the research began. First step: what url to buy. But, oh dear; every variation of my name is already registered. Ok, so plan b … and that was as far as I got. Because honestly, it was then that it hit me: I wasn’t just buying a url, I was creating my own brand. And while I’d never had to brand myself; I HAVE had to brand a multitude of other retail ventures, services, and products. And if there was one thing I knew: you don’t create a brand half-assed.
So now here I sit, starting in the smallest way possible. I’ve been editing my previous posts, changing the name from Finy to Kim. I’ve changed my avatar from the South Park version of myself to the photo you see with this post. But it’s the big questions that are looming. Who am I, what do I do, and how do I want to be known?
Big questions. There are a multitude of personal branding sites out there (my favorite being Dan Schawbel’s) that talk about HOW to brand yourself: use the same avatar everywhere, consistency is key, link everything to each other, etc. But what no one can tell you is WHAT your personal brand should be. Because YOU are your brand. Or in this case, I am the brand I am trying to create.
So who am I? I’m an internet junkie, a voracious reader, a red sox fanatic. I’m a writer by nature, a communicator at heart, and socially outgoing to boot. I’m a music lover, a former softball player, a fself-described nonprofit do-gooder. I’m a no-makeup-wearing, dive-bar-loving, Bostonian turned New Yorker.
Yeah, sum that up in a tag line.
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Have you ever had the pleasure of seeing an Amish cover band? How about one that plays covers of songs such as “I like Big Buts” and “Gin and Juice”. As of last night, I have, and let me tell you: it was highly entertaining. Check out the Amish Outlaws!
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Well, turns out I won’t be needing to use my Blackberry as my main source of blogging. I’m now writing from my brand new baby: the new 13-inch aluminum mac book. So pretty. So new. So … not dead.
Three months ago my 5-year-old Powerbook G4 died. I couldn’t blame the poor thing. I abuse my technology. It has to work hard for me. So 5 years with no problems? I didn’t resent the poor thing for giving up. I said a solemn speech over its fried carcass, reminisced about some good times had, and bid it adieu.
And then I soothed my grief with a new love. It’s like a rebound relationship only better: this kind of rebounding isn’t doomed to end. There’s something about a new computer that inspires creativity and productivity. So look out blogging world. Kim’s back.
Filed under: blogging
Trying out WordPress from my Blackberry. I’ve been without a home computer for a while, but if this works out … I just might be able to start blogging again. No promises though 🙂
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Last night the Red Sox may have lost to the Tampa Bay Rays, and I may have lost just a little more faith in men in general, but all was not lost. In the course of the evening at Thom’s, I ran into Jere and his family and friends. Jere and his mom were promoting their new book Dirty Water: A Red Sox Mystery (which you should all buy. I read one of Jere’s mom’s books Girls of a Tender Age a while back and it was fantastic, I can only asume this one will be as well). I used to read Jere’s blog all the time. Back when I was an active blogger, an active writer. But it’s clearly been a long time since that’s been the case. But after seeing Jere, and telling a few people about how I used to be a blogger too, I woke up this morning wanting nothing more than to turn on my computer and get back into it.
So yeah, a lot may have been lost last night. But at least I found a small part of myself I’d been missing for a while.
I’ve been a few days behind in terms of MLB news lately, so it came as a shock today when I saw that Tim Wakefield had been placed on the disabled list and that Charlie Zink was to fill in tonight. It was an odd mix of emotions for a moment. Those of you who have read for any amount of time already know that Wakefield is my guy. So to see him on the DL, especially with the standings the way the teams pitching woes these days, was a bit disturbing.
But then there was the excitement of Zink’s first major league start. I’ve loosely followed him for years as he yo-yoed between Portland and Pawtucket. He’s inconsistent, but what can I say, I’ve got a soft spot for the knuckleballers. They fascinate me. So I was excited when I got home from a meeting tonight to see he had allowed only 2 runs in 3 innings. Hungry and having just gotten home, I settled in, made some pasta, refreshed my screen and BAM … suddenly it was 8 runs. Oops. Well, that didn’t go as well as you’d probably hoped Charlie, but hey, at least the Sox are still winning. I mean, after a 10 run first inning, you have to figure they can pull this one out right?
Oh wait, as I write this it’s now 16-14 Texas. The Sox have now used 5 pitchers. This season is starting to get really frustrating.
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For the last month, I feel like I’ve been in my apartment for all of two hours. There was a trip to RI for a family BBQ, my yearly trip to MN for Eddypolusa, two straight trips to Boston for Sox games. It’s been hectic and tiring absolutely fantastic. A full post to come a bit later, but for now, some photos from the trips.
Three generations of my family (though we're missing about a dozen people at least)
At my NYC birthday party with some of my friends from high school.
The Thom's regulars the night of my NYC birthday party.
Jason Varitek waits on second base in the Aug. 2nd blowout of the As.
More photos from the last month.
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I forgot how nice it can be to just sit and be silent. People watch. Read a book. Walk around your apartment in your underwear.
For the last few months, alone time has been tough to come by. That was never more true that during Eddypolusa, where even when sleeping you were with at least 10 other people. So last night I took the opportunity to go to dinner by myself. I had forgotten how much fun it can be. Eavesdropping on other people’s conversations (though I came dangerously close to jumping into the Project Runway talk the couple sitting next to me was having), enjoying some good thai food. Of course that was before running off to meet friends for drinks, but I’ll take my alone time where I can get it.
Tonight was spent reading in the park until it got too dark to see, and then polishing off the rest of the book in my overstuffed arm chair. I haven’t uttered a word in hours.
When I was a kid, my mom called it my “alone time”. She knew when I needed it, could tell when my mood turned sour that I’d been over stimulated. Now I can see it in myself. I get cranky. Little things annoy me. I came within inches of yelling at a woman yesterday morning on a crowded 4 train for popping her gum in my ear for 5 stops.
So these two nights of semi-solitude were just what the doctor ordered before a few more weeks of controlled chaos. Tomorrow I head for Rhode Island where I’ll pick up my brother for Saturday’s Sox v. Yanks game at Fenway – continuing a tradition of us attending a game together the weekend of our birthdays (his is the 23rd, mine the 27th). That will be followed by birthday drinks Saturday night, birthday brunch back in RI with the fam on Sunday, more birthday drinks on Wednesday in NYC, and potentially yet another birthday shin dig earlier in the week with a couple of my girlfriends who can’t attend any of the others.
I’m savoring the rest of my night – it looks like the last bit of alone time I’ll get for a while.
Take one trip to Hastings, MN. Throw in 20 friends, showering in a river, and more cheddarwurst than you can shake a stick at. Mix in two firsts: first lap dance received, first jet ski ride taken. Douse generously in beer, red bull vodka, and a particularly nasty absinthe bomb. After baking for 5 days in the sun, smoke for four nights by a campfire.
Your end result? A thoroughly neglected blog, a sleep deprived yet contented Kim, and a suitcase whose smell could knock you over when opened.
Enjoy. I sure did.
Miles From Fenway 